The abyss in the iris Darkens. The lilac's cones shrivel, Impotent nubs. 5 And the waterfall wings Of grackles gnash, Impatient as teeth For something to eat. Blossoms or buds hang 10 Lazy as puppets In their nets, or masses of colored balloons Tied to vulnerability. Rubbing their silk heads to static and still can't think! Everyone breathes beneath 15 Wide woven hats, -- Lying, breathing, Lame as shot seals on the lawn furniture. And everything is hot. The garden is is still and hot. 20 And the conservative gardener buzzes about planning, planning For next spring's eruption. A uniformity resides In all this damp lessening, inexorable and 25 Irretrievable As ants or gold lice, tiny and metallic, Ticking past the plastic petals. The entire arrangement Walls and withers, 30 Tribally. The folded flowers scream. White as live eyes, the trees Scream, steaming. The magnolia's 35 Fists sweats.
From the collection "Youth Youth Youth"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.